Demons
by Redlance-ck
Summary: We all have them. Sam/Brooke
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Demons

**Rating**: PG

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy, I'm just borrowing them so they can do my bidding for a while.

**Summary**: We all have them.

**A/N**: I'm not sure where this is going yet. It was an attempt to deal with some of my own, and is beginning to evolve. So who knows.

* * *

Demons

Prom. The word causes Sam to shudder, having become one that makes her literally sick to her stomach. Every time it left someone's lips, icy hot waves swept through her body and it took all of her strength, and sometimes the support of a chair or table, to keep standing.

Because their's had almost killed them both.

At night, when everything was quiet, Sam could still hear the sirens. Could still see the flashing lights behind eyes that were screwed closed in a desperate attempt to sleep. Which was something that had not come easily for some time.

Sam had seen Brooke die a hundred times. At first it was always the same. Screeching tyres, blinding head lights, Brooke's name ripped from her throat when the blonde had no time to utter a scream of her own. A sickening crack and the world stood still.

Then the visions began to change. Nicole turned into a stranger who had taken a corner too sharply. Then Brooke was behind the wheel of the car, the front end of which was unrecognisable. As was the driver. Brooke had been shot, stabbed, her plane had gone down and she'd vanished off the face of the Earth. Sam had put up 'missing' posters, crying.

And the thing Sam didn't understand, was that the night that had caused her state of sanity to be altered, hadn't turned out as tragically as the things she envisioned always did. The list of injuries repeated themselves during those quiet hours. Brooke had suffered a broken hip, three separate fractures to her right arm and hand. Two of her ribs had cracked, puncturing a lung and her leg had been almost shattered. The head trauma she'd sustained put her in a coma for two weeks. But she had survived. Sam reminded herself that countless times each day, but it was something her brain seemed intent on changing, every single night. And if the events in her head had come to pass, Sam thinks she would have died too.

The feeling she experienced upon waking and finding Brooke to be very much in the land of the living was indescribable. At least, after the initial blind panic and cold sweats. The occasional need to wipe away errant tears. Her stomach only stopped turning when Brooke's smile sent the warmth of reassurance through her. But even seeing her alive couldn't stop the thoughts that kept her up at night. The dreams that plagued her sleeping moments.

Every time she'd close her eyes, she'd see it. See Brooke's broken, rapidly paling form lying crumpled on the concrete, bloody trickling from a mouth Sam would do anything to make turn upwards in a smile. Even before the accident.

She wasn't stupid, she'd know what her feelings towards Brooke were, from the beginning to the exact moment they'd began to change. She'd just decided living in denial was easier, less complicated and less likely to result in people being hurt.

Or so she'd thought.

Then she'd entered into that ridiculous race for Harrison's affections with her. Agreed to go to Prom with them as some kind of threesome. At the time, she'd convinced herself it was the right thing to do, that if she won Harrison and they started dating, she'd forget about Brooke. But deep down she knew. The only reason she fought for Harrison, went to Prom under such a scandalous truce, was because in some twisted way it brought her closer to the person she really wanted.

Like anyone could forget about Brooke.

And all the while she was pushing her further away, because if Harrison had chosen her, Sam didn't know if their friendship would have survived. After all, Brooke had been in it for a very different reason.

Maybe Sam's lack of stupidity was debatable.

Maybe that's why she saw the things she did. She felt guilty. If she hadn't been such a coward, so lost to the depths of denial, then the night might have turned out differently. She could have confessed, at least to herself, how she felt and Brooke would have had no competition. Harrison wouldn't have had to choose and Nicole wouldn't have had a target.

But then, Sam has occasionally wondered why Brooke reacted so… badly, that night. Hadn't winning Harrison been the point of it all? Why then when he'd made his choice, Brooke, had she fled? She had been so sure if that had been the outcome, they would have become Kennedy's new, sweetest power couple. But no, Brooke had said "This wasn't what I wanted". And Sam had replied the same. But she knew why she had said it. Brooke's reasons were a mystery. And then after the accident… nothing. Harrison had visited Brooke a lot to begin with, even before she'd woken up. Sam hardly left her side except for those moments, wanting to be as far away from them as possible, but still close enough to hear that reassuring beeping. Then, almost over night, the visits stopped. Brooke explained without prompt that she'd told him that them being together wasn't in the cards right now, maybe never would be. He'd been hurt, of course, and asked if it was because of Sam. And had left before Brooke could answer. Weeks on, Sam still hadn't heard from or spoken to him. Not even when she'd told Brooke not to worry about her. That Harrison was himself a card very much off her table. That she should do what made her happy. Which, she supposed, meant Harrison was still not in Brooke's imminent future. In her lowest moments, she allows herself to smile at that, then feels the pangs of guilt. Because he was her best friend, and she misses him. But that same thought makes her angry, because the loss could have been far greater and he doesn't seem to see that.

Like Sam does. Every single night.

People have begun to notice. There's only so much concealer can cover and the bags under her eyes have become too dark a shade. She thinks she's fooled them all with false answers about late night study sessions, but Brooke is beginning to look at her worriedly when she thinks Sam isn't looking. It makes her nervous, because she doesn't know what she'll do if Brooke corners her to question her alone. Breaking down seems like the hypocritical option, after all… the whole thing was her fault. But she's sure it's only a matter of time. The mixed signals if nothing else will push Brooke into action. Because Sam is so torn. Half of her wants, needs to be around Brooke as much as the blonde will allow, and she's allowed a lot. Sam was sure she'd get sick of having her at her hospital bedside day in day out, but the big boot never came. Not even when Sam nervously but adamantly insisted on accompanying her to physiotherapy. Brooke had just smiled and given Sam the words, "I'd like that" to repeat over and over again inside her head. Even now, at home, when Sam was at the very least in the same room as her almost every minute of the day, Brooke didn't seem to be tired of her yet. And Sam is eternally thankful for that, because being with Brooke makes her feel something other than dread and fear.

The other half pulls her away, furious. How dare she take comfort in the presence of the girl who's life she'd almost stolen. In Sam's eyes, she might as well have been behind the wheel. In her dreams, waking and otherwise, sometimes she was. Her demons were her own to deal with, her punishment to suffer through, a product of her own selfish cowardice. So she would confess to no one. They didn't deserved to worry about her. They'd worried enough **because **of her for a lifetime. But if this was the price she had to pay for having Brooke alive, but Sam's estimate it was a small one. She'd pay in full to be able to look into hazel eyes full of life and shakily touch reassuringly warm skin. To see her smile.

Sam has seen Brooke die a hundred times, will see her die a hundred more, but she'll take it all and manage. Because Brooke is in a room two doors away. And she's breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

2.

Brooke has thanked whatever higher being might be listening more times than she can count. They've been thanked through tears of joy and relief, occasionally cursed through moments of pain and agony but she's apologised for that, explaining she had been scared.

Because she can't count the times she thought she was going to die either. In those hazy pain-filled first few days, trapped inside a dream that wouldn't end, the fear had been overwhelming. She'd wanted so badly to wake up, to see the bodies that held the voices she thought she could hear through the fog. But she couldn't and it exhausted her to try. She didn't know how to escape.

Sam's voice had seemed constant, looking back. Though the memories were fuzzy at best, she was sure of that fact because the other girl's voice was the only thing that rang anywhere close to clear. Harrison had been there, but she's only sure of that because he told her. She feels bad for hurting him, but she knew the first time she saw him after waking up that she didn't want him. Not the way he wanted her. She'd tried to let him down gently, explaining that after what had happened she didn't want to date right now, but he hadn't believed her. Instead insinuating Sam was to blame, and Brooke hadn't liked that. They hadn't spoken a lot since. He called now and again to see how she was doing, maintain some form of contact, that was it. She didn't think he was mad, not at her, just wounded. But she was too, and she didn't need the added grief.

She was still mending, still had to use a crutch to help support her previously shattered leg. They'd put all manner of things in there to hold the bones together. Metal pins and rods, some kind of mesh, she didn't know all the details, didn't want to. She wanted to forget, but the scar that ran from her hip to the centre of her foot was a permanent unwelcome reminder. It made her feel disfigured, which in turn made her feel stupid and shallow, because the damage could have been so much worse. But every time she undressed, every time she showered, there it was. A visible memory of a time filled with so much pain and fear. So much anger. Because there had been plenty of that. For herself, for her body, for Nicole.

When she had finally woken the memory of that night was missing. She didn't know why she was in hospital, why there were tubes coming out of every available inch of her, or why she was in so much pain. She'd panicked, tried to pull the foreign objects out, succeeded with some, and the room had all but exploded around her. Mike and Jane instantly began yelling at her not to move, which only made her panic more, but Sam… Sam had somehow remained calm. Simply rose from her sitting position at the blonde's side and reached out. The minute Sam's hands made contact with the frightened girl's shoulders, Brooke's attention instantly focused on her and her hands dropped to the bed as Sam's calming words of, "It's okay Brooke." had their desired effect. It was a little while before anyone had explained things to her and her world had crumbled. At first, she couldn't wrap her head around it. Never had she thought that Nicole was capable of something so heinous. But the confusion was quickly pushed and shoved away by anger as the pain began to register, and she would have bet her life on the simple fact that if Nicole had somehow wandered into her hospital room, she would have choked hers from her.

After having many sleepless nights to reflect, Brooke can now understand why she did what she did. Not the act itself, but the motive behind it. Nicole had always wanted to be Brooke, to be the social idol that she was, to have her life. And if she couldn't have it, why should Brooke be given all the comforts that someone hadn't deemed her worthy of? It was twisted and sadistic but, as Brooke had come to realise, very Nicole. And that makes her feel a twinge of sorrow, because she can remember when Nicole used to be nice and she wonders what happened to make her so callous and bitter.

No one had any solid answers as to what Nicole's motives were, so Brooke could do nothing but speculate. Sam had told her, stroking a thumb over the top of Brooke's hand that she held tightly, careful to avoid the IV tube, that Nicole had fully admitted to her guilt but was refusing to answer the 'why' questions. She'd heard talks of some sort of juvenile prison slash counselling hospital, but didn't know any more than that. Brooke has come to realise that she doesn't care.

She just wants to forget. That's the one great thing about dying, it kind of forces you to reevaluate your life and looking back, she's ashamed of the things she used to see as important. That she felt as though her life was over if she'd mistakenly worn the wrong shade of nail polish to school, or Nicole had caught her accidentally browsing a sales wrack. That she'd felt compelled to keep such company when it had been clear to everyone around her what kind of person Nicole had turned into.

But she wasn't blind anymore. The rose tinted glasses had come off and she'd found the world around her altered. School, her friends, even Sam. It was as if someone had pulled the plug that made the other girl light up and spark. That had been the only really painful change, and one she didn't understand. She couldn't care less about Nicole, doesn't give the pitiful looks directed at her as she walks the halls of Kennedy a second glance, but watching Sam hurts her now.

The brunette tries to hide, but Sam is something Brooke has **never **been blind to. Not even when she wanted to be, tried to hard to be, would have plucked out her own eyeballs to be. It proved impossible though, the connection between them was too palpable to deny, even from the beginning. Their feud had been heated, one for the ages, it had consumed them both completely and solidified their connection. Fused them together somehow. So that when their battle defences fell, they walked into a friendship unlike any other they'd ever had.

And Brooke found that she didn't need to be fighting Sam to feel consumed by her. It came naturally.

She could read the reporter like a well bound book - with some difficulty because you don't want the spine to crack, but with determination. Because you want to know what's going on inside it. At least, usually she could. Lately, Sam's distance has seemed to put some kind of block on her skill. In private unguarded moments, Brooke likes to think she has a kind of 'Sammie-sense'. An almost super-human ability to feel when something is wrong with the other girl. So it unsettles her that, while she knows **something **is wrong, she doesn't know what exactly it is. And she wants to. She wants to be able to end Sam's sadness, to bring the spark back.

Brooke isn't sure if it was Sam's constant vigil, the way she'd helped her to the bathroom without even a hint of embarrassment or something else that had finally opened those hazel eyes wide enough to see what was right in front of her. She thinks it had maybe been the jello. Brooke can't see a jello commercial on TV or a box of it in the store or in the pantry without feeling her heart swell ten times and warmth flowing through every inch of her body.

After she'd woken up, her appetite hadn't been top on her list of priorities. In fact, most of her meal times had been taken up by miserably wallowing in seething anger and she'd snapped at anyone who tried to force feed her the food set before her on the steel tray. During one of these very meal times Jane and Mike had sat with bated breath as Sam pulled the tray onto her own knee and poked at the food with a plastic fork. She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat and pulled the mashed potatoes and carrots into an unattractively coloured lump.

"You know I don't blame you for not wanting to eat this. Who made the rule that all hospital food had to both look and taste like it was made by a blind dung beetle?" Sam flicked her eyes to Brooke, who promptly dropped her gaze as their eyes met, and smiled. "Know what they can't possibly make taste gross though?" When Brooke didn't respond, Sam lifted a hand and placed it atop the blonde's arm, lightly scratching the skin there to bring her attention back to her. When her goal was finally accomplished, Sam's smile widened. "Jello." Using her free hand, she plucked the small plastic container from the tray and waved it before Brooke, wiggling her eyebrows. "Especially the awesomely radioactive-looking green stuff." And at that, Brooke had actually chuckled and even if it had only been at Sam's silly childish love of jello, the brunette felt as though she'd just single-handedly accomplished world peace.

And that, Sam had later confessed, was where she'd gotten the idea. A week later, after a fairly intense and painful bout of physiotherapy, Brooke had been wheeled back to her room feeling somewhat disgruntled because Sam had disappeared without any word of warning and was not the tall, but good looking male nurse escorting her back. Fleetingly, she'd wondered why she didn't feel like taking advantage of having such an attractive escort, but the thought bubble had burst as the door to her room was opened from the inside and Sam was there, beaming.

"I thought you might be hungry after your work out." And every available surface in the room, the bed being the only thing that had escaped, had been covered in containers of jello. Seeing Sam standing there, looking nervous and shy and expectant all at the same time, did irrevocable damage to Brooke and she found that smiling was easier from that moment on. She even remembered how to laugh.

And so, since Sam had found a way to bring the life back to Brooke's eyes, Brooke is determined to find a way to get Sam's spark back. Even if she has to acquire the entire planet's supply of jello, she's going to find out what's going on. Why her smile doesn't seem genuine lately, why her 'late night study session' excuses don't ring true. And she's going to fix it.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

The sunlight shone in through the kitchen window, making the worktops glint and the minute amount of dust in the air visible. Sam's pace was quick as she descended the stairs, like it always was every morning since the accident. The need to see Brooke doing mundane everyday things like moving and breathing overtaking her like a kind of fit. She was not to be disappointed. Sam stalled on the very last step as her eyes found Brooke, standing in the sunlight with her back against the counter, eating a breakfast bar and watching the stairs. Looking every bit the goddess Sam thought she was.

"Finally, I thought you'd died in your sleep." Sam flinched inwardly at the 'd' word, but pushed her discomfort aside.

"For that to happen I would actually have to have been asleep." She didn't know why she'd let the words leave her mouth. She didn't want people worrying about her, didn't deserve that. Brooke frowned and finished off her breakfast, tossing the wrapper into the garbage without looking away from brown eyes.

"Not sleeping again?" Sam shrugged it off and moved to the refrigerator to avoid eye contact. She hated lying to Brooke, but the alternative was worse in her mind.

"I was just up late studying." The same old tired excuse. One that Sam thought had long since run its course and wasn't working anymore. But to her surprise, Brooke accepted the explanation.

"Oh. Okay." And that was it. Sam retrieved a grapefruit from the bottom drawer and closed the fridge. "Do you need anything from the store?" Sam blinked up at her confusedly for a second.

"The store?"

"Place that carries food items?" The brunette glanced over at the clock. It was later than she thought it was.

"Um, no. Nothing for me." She grabbed a spoon and sat at the island. And suddenly Brooke was beside her, a hand was on her shoulder, and Sam felt both alive and like she were dying at the same time..

"You sure you're okay?" She was tired. Tired of not sleeping, tired of the nightmares when she did, she was tired of hiding from everyone. From herself. Looking up into Brooke's eyes, she just wanted it all to be over. She wanted to spill her heart and tears out and have Brooke's arms cradle her and tell her everything would be okay.

"I'm fine." But she didn't deserve that. Her pain and suffering was nothing compared to what Brooke had gone through. Because of her. And then Brooke's hand was gone, and along with it the warmth and light she brought to Sam on her darkest days.

"If you're sure." With a small nod, the reporter dismissed Brooke and the blonde picked up her keys and left.

And Sam was alone again. Her thoughts a company she did not desire, her misery and longing both fighting for domination. She wanted to go after Brooke, to scream everything at her. She thought she'd feel better if she screamed. Crying didn't do anything anymore. In earlier days, more recently after the accident, it had at least sufficed in giving her some kind of relief. Now it just made her angry. Crying made her pity herself, and pity was the last thing she was worthy of. She cried for everything she could have lost and for everything she'd never have. She cried for Brooke.

The sound of screeching tires yanked her out of her reverie, and then the noise of crunching metal and someone screaming smashed it to pieces. She was plummeted into a standing position by her heart thrusting itself into her throat at a painful speed. The stool was knocked over in her haste, but she didn't hear the clatter it made as it connected with the floor tile. Buzzing silence rang in her ears, like her thoughts were running through her head so quickly they were causing static.

"_Please... please no."_ Her legs felt like ledbut somehow she managed to keep them moving. The hallway to the door stretched out before her, longer than she remembered it being, but she reached the door, fumbling for a few seconds before she got it open. The first thing she saw upon stepping into the street were the people rushing from houses beside and opposite her own. All running in the same direction. She turned her head. And felt the strength trickle out of her as she recognised one of the two cars. The one that had been sideswiped. The one that was barely recognisable at all.

"Brooke!" The name was ripped from her, leaving her lungs and throat burning like they'd been torn. Then she was running towards the destruction, towards the masses of people that were trying to help. Some were at the unfamiliar car on the left checking on the driver, others were at Brooke's, trying to get the locked passenger door open. Sam watched a guy pick up a large rock from a nearby yard and wrap it in an offered jacket. As she ran, the man succeeded in smashing the window and dropped the rock to unlock the door. It was just as he was opening it that Sam reached the car. "Brooke!" No less painful when said a second time. She paid no attention to anyone as she pushed through the crowd, didn't look at the guy as she forced him out of the way.

And then the frantic scene around her slowed as her gaze fell upon the bleeding figure sprawled across the front seats. She'd fallen to the right, her left side punctured and bloodied by bits of glass from the window. Her legs were pinned between the car seat and the crushed bent metal of the door, preventing her body from being flung too far.

The first thought she could make sense of was a silent question.

"_Why weren't you wearing your seatbelt?"_

Then her heart and mind exploded in unison as she took in the once blonde, now blood drenched hair she'd so longed to touch and the hazel eyes that she had loved to see full of mischief and mirth, that now stared lifelessly at her.

And Brooke's name left her in a repeated agonized wail as she reached to touch a face that was still beautiful, even in death.

"Sam?" She didn't hear her name being called the first time, too intent on soaking up the last remaining warmth that was being offered by rapidly paling skin. Brooke's name left her lips so many times, Sam couldn't hear herself saying it anymore. It was like the act of breathing, done so often it becomes unnoticeable. "Sam?" Tears blurred her sight as she turned reluctantly away from the lifeless form and towards the voice. "Sam?" And Brooke's confused face met hers, eyes pinched and forehead creased with worry. Suddenly Sam felt someone's hands on her shoulders and she blinked to clear her vision.

Everything shifted. The bright sunlight was put out, moonlight speckled darkness taking its place, and then Brooke was no longer looking at her dead on, but from above. Sam felt a soft but damp mattress beneath her and, as her confused body tried to move, she became aware that her limbs were tangled in sheets that were in a similar state.

"Sam, Sam..." And now Brooke was repeating **her **name in hushed tones instead. The brunette's body stilled as a warm hand touched her sweat-chilled forehead and brushed her tousled hair away from it. "Shhh, it's okay." It was then that Sam realised how quickly she was breathing, and when Brooke's thumb wiped something from her cheek, that she was crying. Her eyes closed at the touch and she allowed herself to bask in the almost instant calmness it brought her. But then everything clicked into place. She realised she'd been dreaming, remembered every heart breaking moment of it and the real life events that had brought it on. Her brain ignored her heart and forced her to flinch away from Brooke's touch, reminding her of why she was undeserving of any kind of comfort.

"What-" Her voice croaked under the remnants of sleep and she cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?" Sam rubbed her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows, glancing over at the alarm clock on her bedside table. The glowing red numbers read 03:34am.

"You were..." Brooke paused, her eyebrows pulling together in indecision as she tried to think of the right way to word her reasons. "You sounded like you were having a nightmare." And that, Brooke wouldn't confess just yet, was to put it mildly. She didn't know why her dad and Jane weren't in the room checking on the brunette yet. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine." Sam's reply was too quick to be taken as truth. It always seemed to be that way lately whenever anyone enquired about her. She was always 'fine', even when it was obvious she was anything but. And Brooke couldn't take seeing her so sad, seeing her eyes so lifeless, any longer.

"No, Sam. I don't think you are." And Sam didn't know if it was that she felt safe under the cover of darkness or because of her weariness over the entire situation, but she couldn't find the strength to argue. "I know something's wrong... I can't stand seeing you hurting." The sound of genuine distress in Brooke's voice, the unabashed caring that shone in her eyes, finally managed to breach Sam's defences and the tears that had started in her dream spilled out into reality. Brooke's name left Sam's lips again in a long, broken, almost undistinguishable whine and to say the blonde was frightened by the reaction wouldn't have been even close to describing what she felt when she heard it.

Sam lifted her arms to cover her face and sobbed into them. Huge, heaving, uncontrollable sobs. Brooke only let a second or two pass before she finally shook off the last of the invisible shackles that bound her and crawled along to bed to Sam's side. She pulled at bare forearms, tugging them away from Sam's face and pulling the crying girl towards her. But the act that was meant to soothe only seemed to cause the brunette's breathing to become more rapid and her tears more frequent.

"Please tell me what's wrong, Sammie." Brooke finally begged in a whisper, once the pain that was being voiced was too much for her own ears to bear. Sitting there in the moments that each felt like small eternities while she waited for Sam to answer, Brooke's mind raced through every possible thing that could have been wrong. Was Sam in some kind of trouble? Pregnant? Drugs? No, Sam was too smart for that. Maybe she was upset over Harrison. She would have been foolish to think that the whole fiasco hadn't affected the brunette in some way, but the problem was she **hadn't** thought about it much. She'd been too focused on self pity and misery, then getting better. She'd been too focused on Sam herself. Had Sam been broken up inside all this time because she'd lost her chance with Harrison? Sam had reassured her that Harrison wasn't a card she wanted to play anymore, but Brooke had wondered then why feelings that had appeared to run so deep had suddenly changed.

Maybe the was the problem, maybe they hadn't. Maybe Sam had just buried them for the sake of her and Brooke's friendship. And what kind of friend was she that she hadn't noticed the brunette sacrificing her own happiness for her? She'd been so blind. She felt her arm tighten reflexively around Sam and a thought about how nice it was to be so close to her shot into her mind like a thunderbolt, shattering every other thought around it. Maybe she'd blinded herself.

"Is this..." Brooke tried to steady her voice, anxious of the answer her coming question might evoke. "Sam, is this about what happened at Prom?" Sam's reaction was instant. Her hiccupping sobs increased to the point where her entire body was trembling, her hands came up to grab fistfuls of Brooke's nightshirt and she pressed her face into the hollow of Brooke's neck. With a cringe of disgust, the blonde ignored the inappropriate jolt of desire that rocked through her, seeming to start at the very centre of her body and then expand to fill her from her toes to her fingertips. Sam was mumbling something over and over into her neck and Brooke leaned away slightly to try and make sense of it. The reporter's hands gripped her tighter as she moved, but Brooke was able to make out the word.

"No, no, no, no..." The whisper was anguish itself given a voice, and Brooke didn't think she was responding to her question so much as refusing to answer. To even go back to that night. Had her heart been broken so irrevocably?

"Sam... I'm so sorry." And the thought that Brooke would be apologising for anything at that point, almost sobered Sam. Almost, but it composed her enough to allow her to raised her red, tear-streaked face and stare at Brooke utterly confused.

"**I'm** sorry." It was pained and murmured, but adamant, and then it was Brooke's turn to look confused.

"You don't have to apologise for anything, Sam. I just want to know why you're so... I'm sorry Harrison chose me." The statement was so unexpected that it finally did suffice in easing Sam's sobs into an intermittent state. Brown eyes stared into hazel ones, each pair shining with mirrored confusion.

"I told you." Sam paused to take a breath and lift a hand from around Brooke to wipe harshly at her eyes and cheeks. "I don't want Harrison." Her hand returned to its now comfortable, less death-gripy, resting place just in time for the blonde's to fly past it and into the air.

"It's okay if you do, Sam!" Brooke exploded, so desperate to make the other girl okay again. So sure in the knowledge that she'd finally figured out the problem, and nothing was going to stop her from returning the favour Sam had done for her. "Really, it's not like... I meant it when I said it wasn't going to happen between him and I." Eyes still glassy with unshed tears, Sam's forehead creased as she wondered how they'd gone from Brooke comforting her while she had a breakdown to talking about Harrison again. They'd done this already.

"So did I." Sam's voice was still thick from crying and she sighed heavily, suddenly feeling stupid for her outburst, but unable to assure herself that it wouldn't happen again if someone so much as uttered an 'are you okay?' to her. The dam was broken.

"But… I know something's wrong. Ever since then, you've been different. It's like you've been reverting into a shell of who you used to be and it's been killing me to just… sit back and watch it happen. But you wouldn't talk about it with me." Here Brooke's voice softened and she dropped her gaze. "And we talk about everything. Or we used to. And I just thought-"

"Wrong." Sam sniffed, wiping at her eyes again. "You thought wrong." The thickness in her voice gave way to an edge that Brooke had noticed creeping back into her voice on occasion lately. "God Brooke, do you really think I'm the kind of person that would be hung up by a guy when you're…" She sniffed again. "While you were…" As Sam's filling eyes scanned the room, they fell upon Brooke's crutch leaning against the bedside table, and she succumbed to tears again. "You almost died."

And it was as though the words cleared a path through the fog that was clouding Brooke's mind, and she could see the problem standing in the distance a little ways away. Enough to discern the general shape, but not the detail. However, before she had time to voice any of her thoughts, Sam's voice quietly filled the room.

"There were so many times-" A shaky, hiccupped breath broke the sentence in two. "I thought you were going to. I'd wake up next to you and not hear the heart monitor at first, and I'd practically go into cardiac arrest myself." A harsh bark of laughter left her and she wiped angrily at her tears. "I was so scared and I don't what or who I was more scare **for**… Mike, my Mom, how empty the house would be." Sam shifted position, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest, careful to remain in contact with the girl beside her. "I couldn't handle coming home and not having you here…" The confession was timid, almost shy, but definite, and it caught Brooke off guard. "I'd come into the bathroom and see the sinks and just..." With another loud sniff, Sam covered her eyes with her hands. "I'd lose it. That's when I started staying at the hospital. I think my mom was worried I'd had some kind of breakdown... I'm not sure if she wasn't wrong." Unsure of what to do or what else to say, Brooke scooted closer and wrapped an arm around the crying girl's shoulders, knowing only that she wanted to comfort. Both herself and Sam, and through touch was the only way she could think of achieving that. And Sam fell into the embrace willingly.

"Sam... I had no-"

"I know." Sam interjected heavily. "And I'm sorry for claming up... I didn't mean to shut you out, not like that." Looking down into watery brown eyes, Brooke knew Sam meant every word of what she was saying. "I wanted to shut out what I was feeling, but not you. I needed..." And here Sam stalled and swallowed, her mind fighting with her heart over what she should and shouldn't say. She was so tired. From not sleeping, from holding everything in and pushing everyone away. From struggling to keep Brooke at a distance because of her guilt and wanting desperately to be close to feel the reassuring presence of her. To feel the happiness and contentment she'd found only Brooke could give her. "I needed to be close to you." It was barely above a whisper, but Brooke was certain Sam could have mouthed it and she would have somehow heard. A statement of such magnitude, she was sure, couldn't be lost simply because of a lack of sound.

And Brooke was suddenly struck by a knowledge she wasn't previously aware she possessed. At least, not consciously. It had been there all along, buried beneath the surface, manifesting itself as a want for Sam to be around. As a semi-frantic curiosity as to where she was when she wasn't in Brooke's hospital room. But Sam's confession made it so obvious, she felt as thought it had slapped her in the face.

"I know." Brooke smiled at Sam's unsure face. "I don't think you realise how much I depended on you." Brooke's fingers gave Sam's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Sam, if it hadn't been for you... I don't know if I'd be out of that hospital right now. If I'd even be able to stand." At this, Sam's head lowered and her shoulders heaved with a new wave of tears.

"God Brooke, if it hadn't been for me you wouldn't have been in there at all!" If the hour hadn't been so late, Brooke was sure Sam would have screamed it at her. The emotion behind the words were so strong, so filled with venom and self loathing. Angry with herself, the brunette tried to pull away from her companion, but Brooke's grip tightened and she held on.

"Have you been sipping the crazy sauce?" Brooke asked, wide-eyed and completely incredulous. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Harrison!" Sam snapped, proving Brooke wrong and somehow managing to confuse her further. She struggled against the blonde's grasp, fighting with her need to finally let everything out and the survival instinct that was telling her to flee the room. Fighting the guilt that told her she didn't deserve the relief that would come with voicing her inner demons. "Brooke, just let me go." Sam sobbed miserably into the pillow her head was turned into, but Brooke, confused and hurt by seeing Sam in such a state, refused to loosen her hold.

"Not until you tell me what you mean! I can't stand seeing you like this, Sam. You sounded like you were dying in here earlier! You have to talk to me!" Brooke's words came in an upset whispered rush. In the struggle Sam's body had slid back down from its seated position and Brooke had pulled her until she lay on her side facing the blonde with an arm still around her shoulders and Brooke's hand wrapped around her left wrist, effectively keeping her in place.

In the moments that followed, silence filtered into the room. Sam didn't seem to be crying anymore, the motions of her body suggesting to Brooke that she was trying very hard to calm herself down.

"I think I've seen you die every night since the accident." And still the words trembled as they were softly spoken, falling from Sam's lips like drops of liquid anguish. "Sometimes I'm scared to close my eyes because I know I'll see it again, or some variation of it." Sam moved her head from the protective embrace of the pillow and set red-rimmed eyes on Brooke's frowning face. "I feel like part of me has been disappearing every time I see it and being close to you is the only thing that makes me feel…" She stopped to let out a breath at the same moment Brooke took one in and held it. "Whole again."

It was at that second that she realised that no matter how deeply she felt for Sam, how much she felt their relationship had changed, Brooke hadn't countered on Sam feeling as strongly about their friendship. She knew that something had changed. She couldn't see the Sam she knew pre the parental merging insisting on accompanying her to her physiotherapy sessions, or spending night after night sleeping in a hospital chair next to her bed. Or pulling enough strings to get her room filled with jello. But for some reason, Brooke just never expected things to run so deep. For what happened to have affected Sam so strongly.

"Then why have you been so distant?" Brooke voice came out as a dry croak. Her head was spinning after being thrust into a conversation she hadn't expected to be having, and she stared unblinkingly at Sam, waiting for an answer. Silently begging Sam to give her one, because she didn't understand what was happening, just knew that Sam's eyes were dull and empty and she wanted them to be full of fire and life like they had been before.

"Brooke…" The name was a cracked whine leaving the brunette's lips. "I couldn't let myself feel any kind of comfort. Not after what I did…"

"We're going in circles, Sam… what did you do?" And there it was. The question that if Sam answered would changed everything. And so it was with evident apprehension, and guilt and misery painted onto her face, that Sam spoke.

"It was all my fault." The words flowed from her in a rush, as though riding on her tears. "Everything. If I hadn't goaded you into that **stupid **fight for Harrison, none of it would have happened. I didn't even want him! You could have just gone to Prom together and he wouldn't have had to chose and you wouldn't have ran out in front of-" Her breath finally caught and halted painfully in her throat, her sobs still managing to find a way through.

Brooke's heart thundered in her chest as Sam's hands reached for her and gripped her again. It ached as the girl clinging to her dissolved into a shaking, distraught husk of her former self, but still she spoke on and tears and whimpers marred her every word.

"If I hadn't been so selfish, it would never have happened. I almost killed you! Every morning I wake up… every second I'm not with you I worry that the last few months have been a fabrication and that you never came home from the hospital. It hurts just to breathe when I'm away from you… I'm not calm again until I see you, touch you. Until I'm sure you're real." One hand loosened its hold and moved to rest just above Brooke's left breast. The blonde could feel the hand trembling even as it rested there, but couldn't be sure that it wasn't her own body shaking. Sam felt the heartbeat pulse beneath her touch and thought she would be hard-pressed to find something that gave her as much solace as that did. She opened her eyes again to find Brooke looking at her with an unreadable expression masking her face. "And I hate myself. Because what right do I have to take comfort from your presence? When I was so stupid and self-centred… I almost took you from everyone. I didn't deserve worry or pity or consolation. I deserved distance. So I tried to hide." Brown eyes closed and tears the colour of sadness leaked out to stain her cheeks as her hand dropped.

Brooke continued to stare. Her words had vanished amid Sam's speech and her mind hadn't even attempted to recover them. She'd had no idea that the other girl had been holding in so much pain and guilt. Guilt for something that wasn't her fault, no matter how you looked at it. As Sam's speech and its implications filtered through Brooke's addled brain, she gripped hold of what Sam had said about Harrison and stored it away.

"Sam." The reporter could hear the request to look up in Brooke's voice, but it wasn't until her name was repeated and accompanied by a finger under her chin that she complied. She was afraid of what she'd see. The potential for disgust was high, hurt even greater, but what Sam saw when her eyes met hazel orbs was sadness and understanding. "It wasn't your fault." Instinct began forcing a retort from her, but Brooke's gaze hardened ever so slightly, halting it. "Listen to me very carefully." Brooke's hand moved from the shorter girl's chin and she used her fingers to brush Sam's hair out of her eyes, then smoothed it down along her neck in slow sweeping motions, wanting so badly to bring some relief to her. "You were not driving the car. Nicole was. Don't you see that there's nothing you could have done? Even if circumstances had been different, Nicole is crazy enough she would have found a way to get me some other time. It had nothing to do with you, or Harrison or that stupid competition."

"But if I'd just told you…" Sam's words trailed off and she frowned. She felt like she was being pulled apart from the inside. Brooke's hand stilled at the base of her neck and she watched Sam's face become home to a myriad of emotions in mere seconds. Regret and weariness being the ones that stayed longest.

"Told me what?" Brooke whispered, a vague, familiar feeling lingering at the back of her consciousness. Like she'd asked the question before, or knew the answer before it could be spoken. And Sam wondered if Brooke would maybe finally understand, would see she **was **to blame, if she gave her the answer she was waiting for. It was like she was teetering at the edge of a cliff.

"That I did everything to be close to you." Sam jumped, heart first. "That Harrison was just a conveniently placed bridge that led to you. That some part of me wanted him to pick me so that he couldn't have you." And with that last statement, a faint spark lit in Sam's eyes and captured Brooke in a suspended moment of hope. The embers were still there, just buried beneath the dirt. Waiting for the right kind of coaxing. "Because I wanted you for myself." Sam finally confessed, feeling the weight melt and slide from her shoulders. "And if I couldn't have you…"

There was silence. A silence so profound, Brooke would later swear she'd thought she'd heard the stars twinkle. She felt high, disembodied. Like she could float right out of herself and look down at the both of them. She wished she could, analyse the situation from the outside, maybe then she'd know what to say. As it was, Sam's admission left her the kind of speechless that was surrounded by a haze of elation.

"Now do you understand?" Something inside of Sam wanted to be blamed. Verbally, by someone other than herself. She wanted to feel the whip of punishment in someone else's hand, but Brooke wouldn't take it.

"No." Because she didn't. How had they been feeling the same but managed to miss each other? How had she not seen what was going on with the person she felt most close to? How had she been so blind? She'd always pegged Sam as the dense one. But even with her lack of understanding, some things were suddenly clear. Of course Sam had been withdrawn. She thought she was responsible for almost killing the person she loved. Had been plagued night and day since then. And the only person she could draw any kind of comfort from, was the same person who made the dreams come alive, and the only one who could reassure Sam that that is all they were. Dreams.

"Brooke I-" Sam began exasperatedly, but never got the chance to finish.

"You never asked." Was the perplexing interruption Brooke provided, fingers returning to their previous ministrations, only this time the former cheerleader allowed herself to notice how soft Sam's hair was.

"What?" Sadness had given way to confusion, and Brooke's smile made its first appearance since she'd woken to the sounds of Sam's distress as dark eyebrows knitted together. With her big brown eyes staring at her uncomprehendingly, the reporter looked like a confused puppy.

"If you could have me." Brooke explained, feeling unexpectedly composed considering what she was saying. She realised later that she thought she would have at least been nervous, but she wasn't. It was like it was normal. Something she should be saying. "You never asked."

Something in Sam's brain fizzled and went out. She knew Brooke was speaking, but couldn't make sense of it. It was as though the sentence structure was there, the words were just mixed up. She felt Brooke's fingers brush her neck and finally had the presence of mind to notice the blonde's hand had been stroking her hair, probably for a while. They slid into Sam's hair at the base of her skull, swimming through the long tresses until they reached the ends of them. Her brain still not functioning well enough to deal with everything that had happened, was happening, in such a short period of time, Sam did nothing, said nothing, and just allowed her eyelids to flutter closed. Brooke's fingers seemed to spread warmth to every corner of her body and Sam soaked it up like a sponge that had been left out to dry and wither in the scorching rays of the sun. It was only when the travelling warmth stilled against Sam's neck, luring brown eyes open, and Sam looked up at the taller girl, that everything that had just been said rushed back into her ears with a roar, and suddenly made sense. She felt her heartbeat pick up speed, became hyper aware of where her hands rested, one clutching at Brooke's hip, the other pressed flat against Brooke's stomach, and saw the teasing smile playing along the blonde's lips.

And still had no clue what to say.

"I didn't..." Sam began tentatively after a minute or so had ticked by, somewhat captivated by the look in Brooke's eyes. "I didn't know I could." She replied with a meek honesty. The hand that had earlier been gripping Sam's in an attempt to stop the other girl from leaving now smoothly swept a slow path along her arm, raising the hair on it and sending wave after wave of goosebumps down her back.

"Why would you think there was anything you couldn't ask me?" Brooke was genuinely confused by that, because she felt like she could ask Sam any question that popped into her head. Some questions had just eluded her for a while. Sam's brow twitched in the beginnings of another frown.

"After the accident I-"

"Sammie." Brooke's sigh cut off the self-depreciating speech that was on the very tip of Sam's tongue. "I really hate it when people call it that." She'd never voiced that before. In the days and weeks since coming home from the hospital, it was referred to as 'the accident'. And Brooke hated it, because what took place that night couldn't have been any further from an accident. "Can we call it something else? Like a… premeditated act of insanity or something?"

"Um, sure." Was Sam's semi-distracted but assured reply.

"Good. Now put it to rest, Sam." And hazel eyes stared at Sam with such intensity it took her breath. "Stop blaming yourself, because I don't. That PAI," She twirled dark locks through her fingers. "Is now a past event I'd rather not remember. It's over, gone. Stop hiding behind a shadow that isn't there anymore." Brooke's hand slid along Sam's arm, over her should and crept up along her neck until her thumb rested against a damp cheek. "I miss your light."

Sam inhaled shakily and gazed at Brooke under the blanket of darkness that surrounded them. She felt the blonde's thumb move in slow, short strokes against her cheek and a thrill slither down her spine as her skin tingled beneath it. And when Brooke leaned closer, her lips lifted in the kind of smirk Sam had dreamt about, Sam's heart felt like a river about to flood its banks. Then she felt the tickle of a whisper against her ear, and the thrill became a burning.

"Now you don't have to worry about asking me things." Brooke pulled back to find Sam's eyes shining, lit with a renewed blaze she'd worried she might never see again. Just the right coaxing. "Anything." There was an almost long forgotten challenge imbedded into the word and despite everything, Sam felt something in her rise to the bait. And knowing exactly what she was doing, Brooke's thumb moved, quivering only faintly, to softly caress Sam's lower lip. Stoking the fire to knew heights. She felt Sam's breath come in hot, ragged gasps. Felt her lips part ever so slightly. Felt herself vanish completely into dark depths and knew no matter what happened after that night, she was lost to Sam forever.

"Can I…" The dark-haired girl's voice cracked again, but Brooke barely noticed. Her stomach spun on its axis and her heart threatened to send her into a panic attack as she realised that Sam was actually going to do it. Voice the question she'd never dared to ask, had never dreamed she could. Briefly, she thought she might pass out, but then Sam continued talking, and she decided she couldn't let herself faint. "Brooke, can I-" Or Sam finish. Her heart took over the reins, shoved her brain out of the way and speed forward blindly.

"Yes." Brooke's hand slid back to cup Sam's cheek and the brunette had just enough time to gasp before she was drawn forward, and her lips were met by a pair softer than she'd ever imagined they'd be. Their eyes slid closed in unison and Sam's grip on Brooke's hip tightened impulsively, blood boiling in her veins.

There was no hesitation in the kiss, no sense of uncertainty, but there was an unvoiced need that flowed into it. It was easy and normal, like they'd done it a thousand times before, yet still there was a shy curiosity that pulled at their lips as they met. Turning the corners up so they could feel the other smiling into the kiss. It felt right.

A whimpered sigh slipped from one of them, maybe both of them, as the seconds slid slowly into an eternity and their first kiss broke off into another, then another. Brooke's fingers lost themselves in silky dark tresses again and fireworks went off behind Sam's closed eyelids as she felt herself being pulled closer. Legs entwined so that at first glance you couldn't tell when one ended and the other began. Body and soul, disappearing into Brooke with every touch of her lips, every wisp of breath that passed between them.

And there was no uncertainty in that endless moment. No nervous apprehension or unspoken questions of what would happen later. There was just the two of them. Lost in the feel of each other, sinking into the embracive depths of the warm reassuring waters they'd unconsciously been searching for. That washed their demons away.


End file.
